White Noise
by YouCantGetThereFromHere
Summary: Tanz der Vampire fanfic: Two newborn vampires, somewhere in the wilderness of the Carpathians. Sarah's not as sweet and lovely as Alfred first thought, and Herbert's not as terrifying. Chapter 1: Sarah&Alfred, Chapter 2: Herbert&Alfred.
1. The End

Disclaimer: Tanz der Vampire and related characters belong to Roman Polanski. I'm just playing, not making money.

Characters: Alfred, Sarah

Time: Pretty much right where the musical leaves off.

WIP: I might write a sequel, but this can be read on its own.

Rating: I'd say a strong R.

Warnings: Some sex, violence, blood. (They're vampires, ya know.)

Notes: I don't think Sarah loves Alfred. But something had to happen between them so they could get it out of their systems. They're also newborn vampires and desperate for new experiences.

Reviews would be nice. :)

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**The End**

The world was a single white noise, or so it seemed to Alfred. He lay in a heap in the snow, shaking with cold and fear. The howl of the wind in the treetops high above was that of an untuned orchestra, every instrument clashing yet harmonizing in a terrible way. It occurred to him that the noise might be coming from the wolves and he shuddered, but while his mind grasped the thought, he could not bring himself to get up and run. After all, there was nowhere to run. His fears had finally caught up with him.

He glanced up at Sarah who sat on a heap of snow, looking down at him. She still looked beautiful in her red dress; _Like a dark fairy princess,_ Alfred thought. Her hair was dishevelled from the run and a stream of blood had dried as it had trickled down between her bosom... He quickly lifted his eyes again and was surprised to meet hers. They were glassy brown orbs, her eyes, hot but almost emotionless, and they frightened him and she loomed hungrily above him. _Hungrily..._

Alfred was so hungry. He felt a devastating emptiness, more physical than he had ever thought possible in all his studies about vampires. The hunger drove away his fear, the cold, his conscience. He regretted having shared the Professor with Sarah; it wasn't fair, she'd already fed!

Oh, god. Yes, she had fed before, on him... on Alfred!

As though she was reading his mind, Sarah advanced again, dropping the arm of the Professor, who's last few drops of blood she had been lapping up. Blood, food, that's all either of them had been to her. And the predatory smile that showed her gleaming teeth beneath her ruby red lips meant she was still hungry.

Alfred found it in himself to move at last, and he scrambled away, away from Sarah, away from the Professor's corpse, though he felt he could never be far away enough.

"Sarah," he forced out from dry lips and cleared his throat. He hadn't spoken at all since he had died. "Sarah, please.. haven't you had enough?"

Lifting her enormous skirt, Sarah advanced and with a smirk straddled his hips, effectively pinning him to the floor. She bared her teeth to him as she spoke, and he could detect a little lisp, which, somewhere at the back of his mind, seemed adorable; almost as though she was still the sweet young girl shepherding him out of her bathroom...

He was transfixed with her as she leaned down to kiss him, then moved to gently nibble on his ear. "I've had enough... to eat," she whispered, then chuckled in a way he had never heard from her before as one of her delicate white hands travelled down to his crotch.

"Sarah – no... oh, God!" Even as he protested, Alfred lifted his hips to meet the hand and closed his eyes. This could not be happening.

"Don't pretend you didn't want this, Alfred," he heard her say, and he felt one of his hands being taken and placed firmly on her breast. "I know you've thought about hardly anything else since you saw me," she continued. Her hands found the buttons that undid the front of his breeches, and a moment later he yelled with the pleasure of her surprisingly warm hand on his cock. "You horny little boy," she snarled in his ear, before sinking her fangs deep into his neck again.

Alfred screamed and no sound left his lips. He had some experience, but never had it been this intense. It was as though his skin was on fire where she touched him, as though his blood was boiling as more of the poison that had made him nosferatu seeped uselessly into his body, through his heart.

But he was hungry, so very hungry. He was a vampire and needed to feed like every newborn creature, and Sarah was warm with his own blood which she had so forcibly taken from him. Anger arose within him, and it seemed to make him stronger despite his deprivation.

She shrieked as he rolled them over with surprising force and, as he lay on top of her, took the blood he so desperately needed from her breast.

"Alfred..." he heard her sigh but cared precious little. Blood was rushing into him, filling him up, making him whole, and he only barely felt her legs part underneath him, her hand guide his yet again, this time to that most intimate part of a woman he had never once in his life experienced.

It was only when he felt his fingers lightly being pushed inside that he tore himself away from her bosom and looked into her face. Her fangs were still out, making her look incredibly wild; frightening but no longer evil. Her cheeks still hadn't lost their rosy flush, Alfred noted with relief, meaning he could not have taken too much.

"Sarah –"

"Do it, Alfred," she interrupted, shoving her wet sex against his hand.

"D-do what...," he said, swallowed nervously and looked into the forest. Wouldn't it be light soon?

"Alfred!"

He was on his back again, Sarah snarling above him, her hands on his wrists as she rubbed herself against his hard cock. He whimpered.

"Stop being so pathetic; you know what I want, just do it!", Sarah hissed, giving Alfred all the incentive he needed to grab her violently by the hips and hold her down as he thrust up into the tight warmth.

The sounds coming from both of them were those of animals as they ground into each other, covered by Sarah's skirt but perhaps all the more indecent for the formal clothing. Alfred forced a nipple out of the corset she wore and bit into it hard, Sarah gripped his dark curls and pulled as she roared in pain. She slammed him back to the ground and for a moment he noticed in horror how close he was to the body that had fed them, then he was distracted as his shirt was torn open and sharp nails dug into his chest, again and again, leaving trails of blood that Sarah licked off before kissing him. He yelped and squealed, and his cock twitched inside her even more with every scratch, then with the taste of his own blood, if he had any more of his own to give at all.

He buried his head in her bosom again, licking a bit of dried blood off the soft curve and shuddering helplessly on waves of pleasure he had never been able to begin to imagine. "Sarah," he gasped, "I love you. I love you so much..."

The slap rang in his ears and it felt like his neck was going to snap, then as he was hit from the other side he felt her contract around him, heard her scream. She was pleasuring herself on him as though he were nothing but a toy, but as he screamed with an orgasm that seemed forcefully torn from him, he knew she was so very, very far above him and he was lucky to even be allowed to look at her.

He came crashing down, shuddering, whimpering, clinging to Sarah's unresponsive, slim form for minutes, or perhaps hours. He never wanted to let go. He was floating... _I swear, I'll never leave you, Sarah, I'll do anything... anything! I love you. I belong to you..._

"Argh, you're disgusting!"

With a start, Alfred opened his eyes again to find Sarah glaring at him. She made no move to sit up or remove him from within herself, instead she grinned and slapped him again, and again, then laughed a cruel laugh he was sure he would never be able to forget as long as he lived. The pain in his cheeks was nothing against the humiliation that was eating him from the inside. He was exposed, vulnerable, a creature he had never wanted to become, and he was being mocked by the girl of his dreams.

Suddenly he found himself lifted by his suspenders. He had a moment to wince at the sudden cold on his cock, before he was flung through the air as though he weighed nothing. Snowflakes whizzed past his face, then there was a crack somewhere in his body as he hit a tree, and then he fell... fell until his fall was broken by the ground, somewhat cushioned by the snow. His shoulder gave a sickening crunch and pain shot through him.

"Oh, God..." he whimpered quietly. What had happened? His entire body that had only so shortly felt the most intense pleasure, was throbbing with pain. His left arm would not react to any attempt to move it. He looked down himself and found that his breeches were still undone and carried a tell-tale stain. Further away than he had thought possible, he could see Sarah, unconcernedly rearranging herself in her dress.

Alfred shut his eyes and let his head rest in the snow. So this was the end then. A short moment of pleasure, then pain, then death, unless they found shelter before dawn. How many hours had passed since the midnight ball? It was impossible to guess, and in any case, he had forgotten at what time the sun arose in the area at this time of the year.

Terror of the sun arose within him, and he curled up as much as he could, ignoring the pounding pain in his shoulder. He bit his lip, as he always had to stop himself from crying. Unwanted pleasure darted through his body at the taste of his own blood, and he gave a dry sob when the reality hit him of what he had become. He was a monster. He had killed the Professor, whom he had often hated for using him, ridiculing him, for even writing notes as he was being turned into one of the very creatures he was supposed to fight... but he had never wished death upon him.

Alfred couldn't, wouldn't move anymore. He would surely die, and perhaps it was for the best. If only he could have protected Sarah from the sunrise... from the wolves... from the cold... if he had saved her from Von Krolock just an hour before... he couldn't blame her for hating him. After all, he had failed her.

Blood red tears began to stain the snow where he lay shivering and waiting for the world to stop spinning.


	2. Saviour

**Saviour**

The castle lay in an unnatural silence. Most of the guests had left, furious to have their feast spoilt and their pride injured by a senile old man and his dim-witted assistant. Oh, to be so ridiculed as to have to flee from a cross! And so they had taken off in scores of bats flying away into the night. Herbert was glad of it.

"Father, we should go and get them," he said, leaning in one of the ballroom's doorways. He could only just make out the shape of his father crouching on the iron-wrought staircase, his head in his hands, his long dark hair cast over his features. He thought he could hear silent, suppressed sobs.

"It's no use," came the voice of Count Von Krolock from the darkness. "She's gone."

Herbert shook with sudden anger. "They're both out in the forest! We _must_ go after them," he shouted, then paused. It was no good speaking to his father when he was in one of these dark moods; he might as well have been yelling at a brick wall.

"Don't trouble yourself, Herbert," Von Krolock sighed, and Herbert could hear now that he was crying. "She left... she won't want to come back. Don't go after her."

"Well I'm not going after _her_," he replied, and turned on his heel. "I'm going after Alfred."

He rushed to clothe himself for the blizzard outside; tall riding boots went over the fine silk stockings he had worn for the ball, a fur-lined coat protected his silver-threaded waistcoat, but he was unprepared for the force of the wind that hit him when he ran out beyond the castle grounds, into the forest.

He shouted for Alfred as he ran, cursing himself and his father for allowing this to happen. The sweet young man, whom he hardly knew but would have liked to get to know, was out in this with only a useless old man to protect him from a hungry vampire who couldn't care less about his well-being.

Around him, scores of trees obstructed his view, the wind and snow impaired his vampiric hearing and speed. Icy flakes bit into his skin and fell annoyingly into his eyes and he blinked them away. High above, the skeletal treetops stretched up to wildly torn clouds that angrily shoved themselves before the moon, as though they were each fighting over it. He would never find them in this.

With a reluctant sigh, Herbert listened to the howl of the wolves and although he disliked shapeshifting, he allowed his form to become like their's with practised ease. His legs shortened, knees inverted and forced him to the ground, where his body was to be caught smoothly by broad front paws. He felt his face become that of a wolf, ending in a soft black nose, his ears travelled to the top of his head, his spine extended into a thick tail and his clothes melted into thick white fur, protecting him from the cold better than any fabric ever could.

Now he could run, now he could smell, how he could suddenly hear soft whimpers far off, and snarls that unpractised human ears might have mistaken for those of mating wolves, but that were unmistakable to him.

He began to sprint, a little awkward on his four feet at first, then faster, until he reached a full gallop, kicking up snow behind himself. He dodged trees that stood tightly by each other, ignored branches that lashed into his face.

The noises he could hear became screams, and all that he could think of was Alfred, how beautiful he had been despite, or perhaps more so because of his utter terror as Herbert danced with him. How deliciously Alfred's cheeks had flushed with shame when the Professor had detected the evidence of lust in him shortly after, and how very full of fear his dreams had been during the one night he had spent at the castle. He could not bear to think of allowing those nightmares to come true, to let anything happen to him.

He came to a skidding halt when he spotted the unmissably bright red dress of Sarah between the trees. He watched her as he transformed back into his human shape. She seemed unaware of anything but the fact she was lost. She gazed at the sky, spun on the spot as if drunk, then took a step in one direction, halted, walked determinedly in the opposite direction. Their old footsteps had been swept away and the trees looked the same in every direction. There was nothing to indicate to her which way would lead to safety and she looked helpless, somewhat angry.

Sarah whirled around but didn't move or speak as Herbert stepped into the small clearing. She seemed to be afraid of him, and he felt carefully watched by her as he stepped closer. He had always refrained from looking into the minds of others, and although he had felt a very strong dislike for the girl from the beginning, he kept to that principle. If she was going to attack him, she would be no match for him, and everything else was of no consequence.

But where was Alfred? Ignoring the girl, Herbert surveyed the area, and he could not control a frightened sharp intake of breath as he spotted the body of the professor, pale and broken. Herbert rushed closer, half-expecting to find Alfred close by him, but all he saw was Abronsius' blood-splattered notebook next to him. Herbert picked it up and let his eyes glance over the last lines that ended in a grotesque red smudge.

_2. November 1882,_

_Have escaped the castle. Subject has been infected with blood of vampire. Is showing signs of deterioration faster than expected. Transfusion may come too late. As I write, subject advances my assistant. She is biting him on the neck, presumably the aorta. Assistant has now, too, been infected and appears to be in pain on the floor. I am personally witnessing a full transformation from human to nosferatu! He is still alive_

Here the writing became mangled, and Herbert shut his eyes in distaste and disbelief. He pocketed the book and scowled at the old man's body, sickened by the clinical way the professor described Alfred's last human moments. But his heart was racing with concern now. _Still alive..._ where was Alfred? What had she done to him? He had heard of newborn vampires making others by accident, only to drain them in desperate greed as they would a mortal. Panic rose inside Herbert, and he looked around for a sign of the beautiful boy, a lock of hair, a piece of his clothing, a trail of blood...

There it was, a trickle of blood under a large tree with snow piled under it, and in the snow, he discovered as he rushed towards it, there was a depression, and half-buried by fresh snow lay Alfred.

He looked awful. His hair was matted with sweat, blood and snow. His pale face almost got lost among the whiteness, his lips were cracked and had lost all their rosy colour that Herbert had found so exquisite on first sight. His cheekbones were bruised, his shirt open, his chest covered in blood from a gaping red wound on his neck.

Herbert crouched and reached out to touch him. He felt cold, he wasn't breathing, and Herbert felt his hand shake as he gently rubbed Alfred's shoulder. He couldn't be dead, not like this, not by _Sarah_...

"Alfred," he asked, and found that his voice, too, was trembling. "Alfred. Come on. Alfred, please." His voice sounded thick, and he swallowed. He wouldn't cry in front of Sarah. But now he'd never know Alfred, he'd never look into those deep brown eyes again, never know his hopes and his dreams. Alfred seemed like somebody who had never been loved enough, and Herbert had wanted to give him that love. Now neither of them would ever know what it felt like.

Herbert petted the damp curls as he had done while watching Alfred sleep just the night before, as he had sat by his bed and tried to soothe his nightmares. And like he had then, Alfred whimpered, his lashes trembled, and then his eyes opened to sleepily look around.

"Sarah...?" he whispered, and Herbert looked up in amazement, taking in the sight before him, of Alfred moving and trying to sit up. He couldn't help but take him in his arms, forgetting for a moment that they hardly knew each other.

"Thank God, you're alright!"

"Aahh...!" Herbert felt Alfred wince in his arms and he backed away from him, still holding him upright. Looking down at him he his left arm hanging awkwardly at his side, and Alfred's frozen little fingers were fumbling with the ruffles on his stolen pink frock coat to try and hold his arm to relieve the pain.

"Here, let me." Herbert moved to take the arm, and Alfred flinched as he did. He looked into his eyes and smiled at him, hoping to comfort him. Even without reading his mind Herbert could tell that the boy was still terrified of him. "Don't be frightened, please. This will hurt, but I promise it will be better soon."

Alfred gulped, then nodded, and Herbert felt his right hand take a tight grip on his coat. Those large brown eyes were on him, the finely chiseled little face beautiful in its anxiety. "Be careful... please?" Alfred begged, and Herbert nodded and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He was surprised to find that Alfred allowed it without protest, and then he yanked the arm back while the boy was still distracted. He felt the shoulder click back into place and hugged him again as soon as it was over, letting him scream and cry into the softness of the fur lining. He bent down to Alfred's ear and kissed it, then rocked slightly as the boy allowed himself to cling to him and sob, at long last finding an outlet for all his pain, fear and exhaustion of the last few days.

"Is Sarah alright? Did I hurt her?!" He asked, ridiculously, Herbert thought. It seemed he was lucky she hadn't killed him.

"It's alright, Alfred, it's alright. Shh," he cooed, petting his hair as a mother would a child's. As discreetly as he could, he buttoned up Alfred's breeches, ignoring what lay beneath them, although it had been all he had seemed to care about before.

Slowly the sobs raking Alfred's body began to subside until all that was left of his hysteria was his shivering with cold. Herbert pulled away and felt Alfred's hands holding on to him, unwilling to let go. "It's cold..."

"I know." He petted Alfred's cheek and it felt like that of a china doll, perfectly soft but icily cold. He never thought he'd see the professor's assistant like this, so battered and feeble. Although he seemed an incorrigible coward at first, Alfred had impressed Herbert with his bravery. To see him this helpless was heartbreaking.

"Would you like my coat?" he asked, already swinging it off his own shoulders and wrapping it around Alfred, who's slender form seemed to disappear in the huge garment. The answer was a curt nod, then a shy upward glance and the hint of a smile. "Thank you," Alfred whispered, and began to stand up.

It took a few attempts, but Herbert hooked his arm around Alfred's waist and so held him up and began to walk him away from the tree. He wasn't even going to ask how he had landed there so forcefully in the first place, though he could imagine the irrational, aimless fury of a newly made vampiress. Females were terrifying until they gained control of their newfound strength. Herbert was only glad that a dislocated shoulder was the only injury Alfred had had to carry... that, and having been turned against his will.

Glancing back at Sarah, he scowled. "Are you coming?"

Sarah stood from where she had sat in the snow, and hurried to catch up in her awkward red dress. She looked like an egg, Herbert thought, and that amused him enough to mask his dislike for her for the moment.

Carefully gathering Alfred and making sure the coat covered him completely, Herbert began the long, ponderous walk back through the forest, in the direction of the castle, of home. How he longed for a long bath to warm him! The night had been too long already.


End file.
